Holy Grail
by lastknownwriter
Summary: A Past, Present Sequel: Dean pines for his handsome professor after Cas leaves on an extended expedition. This fic is a timestamp sequel for the characters in Past, Present. It would be a necessity to read that fic first in order to understand a major plot point here.


"So how much longer, mopeypants?" Jo bounced the fussy baby on her hip.

Dean slapped his bar rag on the gleaming counter and frowned. "How many times do I have to tell you Joanna? Joe's is no place for a baby." He held out his hands. "You better hand him over."

Jo snorted and passed the infant over the bar. Mason's feet kicked excitedly and he cooed at his uncle.

Dean hid his smile and nuzzled the baby's soft neck. Mason rewarded him by dragging wet lips across his cheek. "Ew," Dean winced used the rag to dry both of them off.

"Oh yeah," Jo mumbled around a mouthful of peanuts. "He learned to give kisses." Two pieces of shell fell to the countertop.

Dean pointed. "You're cleaning that up." He swung the baby high overhead, grinning when Mason squealed. "And ten days. Give or take."

"You're never gonna make it," Jo singsonged.

"Am to," Dean grumbled. He tucked Mason under his arm like a football. "The men are going to go open the back door for the beer guy."

"I'm going to stay here and clean up these peanuts."

"You mean eat the peanuts," Dean replied, looking pointedly at the nearly empty bowl.

Jo stuck out her tongue and tossed him the baby sling.

In the kitchen, Dean opened the back door and greeted the man on the stoop. "Pete! How goes the brewery business?"

"Not too shabby, Dean-o." Pete smiled at the baby on Dean's hip, reaching over to tap his chubby cheek. "I need to see some ID, little feller."

Mason gurgled and blew a spit bubble.

Dean grinned and passed the baby to Pete. "Hold him while I put on the straitjacket."

Pete tucked the invoices he held under one arm and took the infant, frowning as he watched Dean struggle with the miscellaneous straps and buckles. "I think you got'er mixed up. That one goes over your arm," he nodded.

"Huh?" Dean frowned and pulled the contraption over his head. "Here. You do it." He held out his arms.

Pete shrugged and sat the baby on the floor at their feet, one hand holding him steady until Mason found his balance. He gave the baby the invoices.

Mason's head swiveled from one man to the next as the two worked to strap Dean into the carrier.

"Bam!" Dean crowed triumphantly. "Piece of cake."

"Of course you might never get out," Pete pointed out.

Mason whined and Dean bent over to retrieve him, coaxing his squirming feet into the leg holes until the baby rested flush against his chest.

"Perfect. Now let's go count the liquor." Dean thumped his chest for emphasis.

When Jo wandered in several minutes later, Dean was holding open the walk-in cooler for Pete and the dolly.

"He's going to get too cold in there."

"Which is why we're not _in there_," Dean retorted, one hand brushing surreptitiously over the baby's head, checking the temperature of his skin.

"You got a safety pin? My button, uh, won't stay buttoned."

Dean glanced back with a wide grin. "Told you to lay off the peanuts, Joanna Beth."

"Shut up. Do you have a safety pin or not?"

Pete leaned on the handle of the dolly as Dean swung the door shut behind him. "Wife always used a rubber band."

"Huh?" Jo and Dean replied at once.

"Jinx." Jo punched him in the arm.

Pete waved in the direction of Jo's waistband. "You loop the rubber band around the button and then through the hole. Gives you a little wiggle room when your pants are too tight."

Jo's face lit up. "Brilliant!" She socked Dean again and he winced. "Nevermind on the safety pin, you got a rubber band?"

Dean frowned. "Why are you wearing pants that are too tight?"

"Oh my God," Jo muttered, turning away and flinging open kitchen drawers.

"She just had a baby, dipwad," Pete offered helpfully.

"Like seven months ago!" Dean grinned when Jo's entire face flushed in anger. He held out his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Clearly I'm an idiot." He frowned as Jo rooted through his utensils. "End drawer, where the batteries are. And just buy new pants."

Jo stared at him coolly. "I don't need new pants. Today was the first day I fit in my skinny jeans."

Dean opened his mouth to point out the obvious, but snapped it shut when Jo glared.

"You're an asshole, Dean Winchester." Jo snatched a long rubber band from the drawer and flounced from the kitchen.

Dean looked at Pete in consternation. "What'd I say?"

Pete shrugged. "Skinny jeans are the holy grail."

"Holy grail, huh?" Dean sighed. _Women._ He said a little prayer of thanks that Cas was a) not female and b) looked good in –or out—of everything. _God he missed him. _He waved at the baby attached to his chest. "Get me out of this, I gotta go make amends."

Once Pete had the baby safely tucked against his shoulder, Dean jerked a thumb toward the fridge. "There's an Italian sub in there with your name on it. If I'm not back in ten minutes, send in search and rescue."

Pete chuckled. "The time comes in every man's life where he's got to nut up and admit he was wrong, Dean-o."

"Yeah yeah," Dean muttered.

Jo was lying on the couch in the office, one forearm thrown pitifully across her eyes. "I don't want to talk about it."

Dean perched cautiously beside her. "Don't want to talk about what? That you're fat?"

"Dean!" Jo slapped furiously at him until Dean, hampered somewhat by the laughter bubbling up in his chest, had her pinned against the cushions.

"Jesus, Jo, I was kidding," he gasped.

She rolled her eyes, and then sniffed loudly.

Dean released her and gave her a level look. "You're not fat."

"Yes I am," Jo whimpered, swiping at her eyes. "None of my clothes fit and warm weather is coming and I'm gong to have to go up a _whole_ _size_!"

Dean shrugged and leaned over her to grab a tissue out of the container on the end table. He handed it to her and she blew her nose. "So you go up a size. Who cares." He ducked his head until she met his eyes. "Sam doesn't."

"You don't know that," she muttered.

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, I do. _You_ haven't had to watch his dumb cow eyes follow your every move the past five years."

Jo laid a hand across her half-zipped fly. "I love these jeans," she said, her voice small and melancholy.

"There are plenty of jeans in the sea, Joanna Beth." He patted the slight roundness above her waistband. "Personally, I'd suffer a hell of a lot more than a little pudge if I could squeeze out a tiny Winchester for me and Cas."

Jo sniffed again, her face falling. "That's so cute." She sat up and threw her arms around Dean's neck.

"Okay, okay," Dean murmured, rubbing her back.

"It's probably a good thing you can't get pregnant," Jo mumbled against his neck.

"Why?" Dean chuckled.

"Seriously?" Jo leaned back with an incredulous look. "I don't know how you've survived nearly six weeks without him. You must be desperate."

Dean fidgeted, flushing. "I survived just fine, thank you very much." He pointed at her. "And this is approaching uncomfortable territory."

Jo slapped his finger away. "Whatever. Do you need to go toy shopping?"

"Toy shopping?" Dean cocked his head, confused by the swift change of subject.

"Not toys, Dean," Jo said in exasperation. "_Toys._" She waggled her eyebrows.

"Oh my God, Jo!" Dean shoved her off his lap.

"Where's the baby?" she asked suddenly.

"In the kitchen with Pete, why?"

"You left my baby with the beer guy?!" She shot off the couch.

"It's fine, Pete's got like twelve kids!" Dean called, grinning. He gathered up the used tissues and tossed them in the wastebasket by the door before he followed her.

In the kitchen, Pete was jury-rigging the rubberband through Jo's buttonhole.

"It's five kids, smartass," Pete muttered when Dean leaned over the counter and swiped one of his potato chips.

"After two does it really make a difference?" Dean quipped.

Pete snorted. "Actually, no." He straightened with a flourish. "Madam." He gave a little bow.

Dean clapped appreciatively, whistling when Jo struck a pose.

Mason had been strapped into the high chair Dean kept in the corner of the kitchen, and he banged the tray, mashed bits of banana flying. Jo cleaned his chubby fists while Dean took care of Pete's invoices and sent the truck driver on his way with a doggie bag.

After he was gone, Jo yawned loudly and dropped her head to the kitchen counter, moaning pitifully into her crossed arms.

"Go lie down in the office Jo, I'll watch him." He slapped her ass and lifted the baby from the seat.

"Are you sure?" she asked, but she kissed the baby's cheek and then Dean's, calling, "Wake me up in thirty minutes!" before disappearing down the hall in a flash.

Dean stared at the empty doorway for a beat before glancing down at his nephew. "Wanna play quarters?"

Mason cooed.

…

Dean nearly tripped over a duffle bag when he swung through the kitchen door with a tray of clean glasses. His heart beat double time as his eyes swept the room.

Cas was crouched beside the baby's pack and play, Mason curled up, sound asleep.

Dean had to swallow several times before he found his voice, carefully setting the tray on the countertop. "Bar's closed."

Cas looked up and smiled, his eyes warm as they caressed Dean's face. "Sorry, but I left something the last time I was here."

Dean thought his lungs would explode as Cas walked right through his bubble and then kept on going, backing him against the bar. "Oh yeah? What was that?" he asked huskily.

"Everything." And then he was kissing him and Dean's head was swimming and the taste and smell of _Cas_ filled his senses.

When they broke apart with a gasp, Dean followed as Cas straightened, unwilling to give this up, nosing at his ear, breathing deep. "Missed you."

The unsettled, anxious feeling he had been plagued with since Cas left began to leech away.

"I missed you," Cas murmured, cupping Dean's face in his hands and kissing him sweetly.

When he couldn't quite hide a yawn, Dean grinned. "I'm surrounded by sleepyheads today."

"Sorry," Cas smiled sheepishly. "I drove all night to surprise you."

"Cas," Dean admonished, but he couldn't be mad, not when Cas was here. _Finally_. "It _pains_ me to say this, but why don't you go home. Lie down."

"No," Cas said simply, brushing his fingers through Dean's hair and scraping hard down the nape of his neck until Dean shivered in response. He frowned when Dean opened his mouth to argue. "_No._"

His expression brooked no argument and Dean smiled contentedly. He didn't really want him to go anyway. "Okay. But go on back in the office and make Jo share the couch. I'll wake you up for dinner."

Dean moved the duffle bag to the kitchen and heated Mason's bottle when he woke up hungry. Unable to resist the lure of the man in the back, he took the baby to the office and sank down in the recliner to feed him. While he rocked, he catalogued the stubble on Cas' cheeks and the tired circles under his eyes.

His hair was too long and he had gotten too much sun, the bridge of his nose tinted pink.

He was gorgeous and _here_ and _Dean's_.

It was the last thing Dean remembered, and when Sam poked his head in the office at half past five, he found three sleeping adults and one infant, wide awake and playing with his bare toes.

"Where are your socks, young man?" Sam whispered, bending over Dean and taking the baby. Mason wiggled excitedly.

Dean blinked sleepily and then shot straight up. "Oh my God. What time is it?"

Sam grinned and sat behind the desk to put the baby's socks on. "Five forty."

"Sam?" Jo pushed up on one hand looked around, poking Cas in the ribs.

"Jo, let him sleep," Dean hissed.

"Do I want to know why you're shopping for glass dildos on your work computer?" Sam tilted the monitor in Dean's direction.

"Jo!" Dean flushed bright red.

"Glass? Thanks Jo," Cas grinned sleepily.

"No problem, Professor," Jo winked, smacking a kiss to his cheek before she climbed over him and into the arms of her husband, who noted the gleam in Dean's eye and ushered his little family out of the office tout suite.

Even though it was quarter to six, and he could hear Sam starting dinner in the back, and they still had an entire night to get through at the bar, Dean said a blanket _fuck it_ and settled over Cas on the couch where he was welcomed with grateful arms.

Dean sipped long, lazy kisses, relearning the curves of Cas' mouth, their bodies slotting together in familiar symmetry. '"Let's not do that again," he mumbled, every beat of his heart thrumming _Cas is home_ through his veins.

"Okay," Cas agreed quietly and Dean looked at him sharply.

"Okay?"

Cas shrugged. "Going away doesn't hold the same appeal to me as it used to." He pushed his fingers through Dean's hair. "No more, unless you can come too."

Dean grinned, the last of the tightness in his chest dissipating. "I am handy with a trowel."

Cas grabbed his butt with both hands and squeezed. "I was thinking more about your skills inside a tent."

Dean sighed happily. "That too."

They kissed languidly until they were interrupted by a fist thumping the wall beside the door.

"Stop necking, it's chow time!"

"You know, motherhood has turned Jo into a real nag," Dean said a shade too loud.

The door swung open and Dean jumped, but Cas held him fast.

"Get off that couch right now Dean Winchester or I tell Cas all about that hot young coed who keeps showing up on Friday night."

Dean closed his eyes in resignation. "Thanks, Jo."

Cas growled deep in his chest. "What hot young coed."

"Dinner's ready!" Jo chirped cheerfully and sashayed down the hall.

Dean reached for Cas, sighing when he held him off with a bland look. "Harmless kid, wants me to train him behind the bar."

"No," Cas said firmly, pushing Dean away so he could sit up.

Dean sat back on his haunches and smiled. "Seriously? Cas. He's a kid."

"No." Cas grabbed the back of Dean's neck and kissed him, hard. "This is not up for debate."

"Okay, wow, Professor," Dean soothed, half hard and getting harder. Cas' unexpected possessiveness lit a fire in his midsection, and it had been too long. His lips trailed across Cas' cheek when he remained stiff and unyielding and he toyed with the hem of his t-shirt. "I can't wait to get this off of you," he whispered.

"Don't change the subject," Cas said sternly, but his body betrayed him and he leaned into Dean's touch.

Dean grinned and dragged Cas to his feet. "Let's go eat before I ravage you on the couch."

Cas arched one brow. "I think I prefer the ravaging."

Dean chuckled and pushed him toward the door. "I know you do. Hold that thought til close and I'll let you have your way with me on the dance floor."

…

The night passed quickly, despite Dean's desperation to be alone with Cas, the mere fact that he could look down the bar and find his handsome face providing a steady sense of peace and reassurance. When the last patron had been let out and the doors locked, he leaned against the paneled hardwood and called across the bar. "Play some Van Morrison, Cas."

Cas smiled and pushed the faded buttons on the jukebox, guitar strains wafting across the bar. He hit the lights as he rounded the counter to join Dean on the dance floor, pulling the broom from his hands and letting it fall to the wooden planks.

Dean grinned as Cas gathered him close and began to sway. "Are we dancing, Professor?"

"I'm seducing you," Cas replied calmly, nuzzling Dean's cheek.

"You know, when you're gone it's—"

Cas lifted his head. "It's what?"

Dean chewed his lip. "It sucks."

Cas snorted softly. "I agree."

Dean kissed him, lingering before pulling away. "I wasn't kidding before. I don't want to be separated from you again." He fiddled with the too long curls along Cas' neck. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"Why would that be a problem?" Cas squeezed his hips. "My turn."

Dean chuckled. "Okay, shoot."

"No more coeds, Dean." Cas' eyes were luminous in the dim light and the authority in his tone shot right to Dean's groin.

"I guess now would be a bad time to mention you spend your days with coeds," Dean replied dryly.

"It would."

Dean wanted to kiss the self-satisfied smirk off of Cas' face. And then he wanted to kiss all of the clothes off his body. He fidgeted, feeling restless and needy. "Let's go home and have makeup sex."

Cas laughed. "We aren't fighting."

Dean ground their hips together in frustration. "So pick a fight in the car so I can beg forgiveness with a blow job."

Cas backed away, one hand held out. "Let's go home, Dean."

Dean followed. Gladly.

…

Cas dropped his duffle beside a large box just inside the front door. "What's this?" He laughed when Dean practically tackled him, pushing him onto the couch and ripping his t-shirt over his head.

"It's a closet organizer," Dean answered when they came up for air.

Cas smiled fondly, cupping Dean's jaw. "Thank you."

Dean's face flushed with emotion and he rubbed a thumb across Cas' lower lip. "I wish you had gotten that one back," he said gruffly, heart suddenly heavy with remorse for lost memories and lost time.

"This is better," Cas insisted, fingers slipping the buttons free on first Dean's fly, and then his own, chasing away the melancholy with hands and lips.

Dean shimmied his hips and kicked his pants free. He sighed happily when they were skin to skin. "How is it better," he asked, belatedly remembering Cas' response.

Cas kissed him deeply, coaxing a moan from Dean's throat when he took him in his fist. "Because I will categorize all the parts and read all of the directions," he paused to suck at Dean's Adam's apple. "And you will fix me a sandwich and shoo me from the room."

Dean's breath quickened when Cas slid down his chest, lips pressing into his sternum, then lower.

"Then you'll throw the directions under the bed and do it however the hell you want anyway," Cas recited Dean's handwritten memories, jotted down in a beloved journal. He kissed the skin around Dean's belly button, rubbing his chin along the trail of hair just below.

"Cas," Dean breathed. "That's all the same…" He panted as Cas' tongue swirled around one of his hip bones.

"Mmmm," Cas mumbled, relishing the taste of Dean's skin, the smell of their arousal enveloping them in the little living room. When he gently sucked at the base of his dick, Dean's hips bucked off the couch.

"Cas, _fuck…"_

"Shhh," Cas hushed him, reaching up to lace their fingers, grounding Dean as he took him in his mouth.

After several excruciatingly good moments Dean urged him up, kissing him hungrily, tasting himself on Cas' tongue and unabashedly chasing it into the hidden corners of his mouth. He had missed this so much, missed _Cas,_ and he knew it would never, ever be enough.

Cas was breathing heavily when he continued talking, taking them both in his hand and pumping so slowly Dean thought he would die. "It'll be the same story, Dean, but we aren't the same. So it will still be fresh, and we'll share that newness, maybe add some twists," he turned his wrist sharply and Dean bit back a whimper. Cas licked at his mouth until Dean let him in again. "And maybe I'll surprise you, and not read the directions," he added with a cheeky smile.

Dean chuckled softly, lacing his free hand with Cas', kissing the knuckles before bringing them over his head. "Never gonna happen, Professor."

Dean was close, Cas could see it in the flush along his cheeks, his pupils blown wide. "Everything is better Dean, because we've already survived the worst."

And the fierce truth of the statement sent Dean plummeting over the edge, but he took Cas with him, because that was also their truth. They had survived the worst, and they had found each other again, and their future lay bright before them, filled with unfinished closet organizers and slow turns on a dance floor, and a golden retriever puppy Dean would take Cas to pick out in the morning.

And as sleep blanketed them, Dean realized this life he had built with Cas was his holy grail.

A timely beam of moonlight winked across the small vase on a corner shelf and Dean smiled.

Cas was home.

…


End file.
